Were-Gentlemen Prefer Blonds
by WhatBecomesOfYou
Summary: Stiles is worried when he finds out that Derek finds Brad Pitt attractive. So he takes steps to correct the measure. Blond!Stiles. Stiles/Derek, minor Allison/Lydia. Oneshot.


**Author's Note**: _Originally written this summer and posted to AO3, but never posted here. Contains blond!Stiles and rimming. Mentions of minor Allison/Lydia._

* * *

"Why does shopping for hair dye sound like something off of a grocery list? Honey butter, butterscotch, _cinnamon stick_?" Stiles asked, holding up a box of brown hair dye. "I thought these were for dyeing. Not for eating."

"That's because you don't know anything about hair care, Stiles," Lydia said, dragging him along. "We want our hair to be as tantalizing as the best food in the world."

"But it's not -"

She held up her hand. "Look, do you want me to help you get the guy or not? You said that you overheard Derek telling Isaac that he thought Brad Pitt was hot, and you've been all panicked ever since."

"I do, I do. I just - I really, _really_ want this to work out, Lydia, _please_? And I can't exactly get plastic surgery to make myself look like Brad Pitt, so this is the next best thing."

"Dyeing your hair to be blond? I guess I've heard of crazier schemes," Lydia said. "Now, which do you like better?" She held up two boxes of hair dye: one said sunflower blonde, the other said light golden blonde. "I think one of these two would look best on you." She moved over next to him and put the boxes up next to his head. "Yeah. Definitely one of these two. Your choice." She tossed the boxes into his hands, and he barely caught them.

"Light golden blonde, then, I guess," he said, handing her back the sunflower blonde box and tossing his selection in the cart. "Will it make me look as close to Brad Pitt as this face can ever get?"

"I don't know if it will or not, but hey - if you think it will work to get Derek to get his werewolf-y freak on with you, that's what I'm here to do," Lydia said. "Even if I don't really want to think about that right now."

"Didn't you say Allison was going to meet us back at your place for the grand dyeing event?"

"What? Oh, yeah. That. It's more like, we're going to kiss, while you dye your own hair. _In the other room._"

"Is that Lydia-speak for we're going to make out and there's nothing I can do about it?"

"Maybe..." she trailed off, before seeing the look of consternation in his eyes. "Yes. Yes, it is. But, once you finish, you can have all the Derek liplock action you could ever want. And then you don't have to be jealous of those of us with sexy girlfriends."

"God, I hope so."

* * *

He can hear Allison and Lydia giggling, and it was kind of infuriating, except it really wasn't - at least Lydia seemed to be happy, and Allison too, so that was important. And yet, there he stood in front of the mirror, applicator in hand. It was like he was using some foreign object that he had never seen before. Then again, he was probably right - there was really no reason why, before tonight, before now, he would have ever had need to dye his own hair.

He winced as he spread the cool dye on his hair. So this is what the price of beauty was. Gloppy hair dye that smelled funny - and all for what, a head of luscious blond hair?

Finally, he had the dye spread all around, covering every follicle of hair - and he was ready to sit in the bathtub. And wait, for the ten minutes it said on the box. And listen to Allison and Lydia. He played with the edges of her pink shower curtain as he waited, letting the dye soak in.

Waiting was hard. He wasn't someone who liked to wait; he was always one to get in the middle of the action, even if it wasn't really his place.

Ten minutes stretched on for an eternity.

As he washed the dye out of his hair, he hoped that it would turn out. That he'd be at least a fraction as attractive as Brad Pitt - which, okay, was asking a lot from a simple box of $14 hair dye. But what really mattered wasn't so much what he thought about it, but what Derek would think.

The crazy things people do for love.

* * *

As far as crazy, hare-brained schemes of his went, he had to admit that he didn't look half-bad with blond hair, when it was all said and done. It wasn't quite the shade on the box, but it was pretty close. Close enough that he counted it as a success. Especially for his first time doing anything remotely close to this.

"Looking good, Stiles," Allison said, diverting her attention from Lydia's face as he walked out of the bathroom.

"If that doesn't get the guy, I'll - I don't know what I'll do, but I'll do something," Lydia added. "Good luck."

"Thanks." _I think I'll need it,_ he finished in his mind. Now, it was time for the real test to begin.

* * *

"Stiles - what did you _do_ to yourself?"

"That wasn't exactly the reaction I was looking for, but it works, I guess." He looked over at Derek and tried to gauge his feelings from his facial expression. Which was considerably difficult, considering Derek didn't really have a wide range of facial expressions to begin with. "I dyed my hair."

"Well, that much is obvious. But _why_?"

"I overheard you telling Isaac that you thought Brad Pitt was hot, and that you liked blonds, and I didn't have blond hair, and now I do, and maybe, just maybe, you'll find me a fraction as hot as Brad Pitt?"

"What are you - oh. That."

"Yes, that. Whatever _that_ is."

"Stiles, it's not about the hair. Regardless of what you think."

"Then what is it about?"

"It's you, okay? I found you hot without the blond hair. You don't have to compare yourself to Brad Pitt, because you aren't. You're one-hundred-percent Stiles. My Stiles. Mine."

"So you're saying -"

"What I'm saying is that it's not the blond hair I'm attracted to, even though you look like the sun threw up on you. It's _you_." Derek pulled him in for a kiss, and curled his fingers through Stiles's hair, grasping on for dear life. It formed tiny golden ringlets on his fingers, and he massaged at Stiles's scalp as he pressed his tongue inside Stiles's mouth. "Don't believe me now?" he hoarsely whispered.

"Oh, I believe you," Stiles said, a little stunned from the brazenness, and heady from the kiss. He rocked forward onto his toes, and almost plummeted into Derek's chest.

"Take off your shirt." It wasn't a command; it was a simple request, but with the whisper and the dilated pupils that marked his lust, Stiles felt his stomach turn to warm, mushy liquid inside. "Or maybe I'll just have to take it off for you -"

"Yes - _please_ do -" Stiles said, backing up a bit to allow Derek access to the buttons of his blue flannel shirt. He half-expected him to do things slow, take his time -

Derek ripped it off him and threw the offending fabric to the floor. He should have been able to tell by the lust in his eyes that this wasn't going to be all candles and soft music; there was too much pent-up desire there. "Your turn," he said. Stiles grasped the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it up over Derek's head, and threw it to land on top of his shirt.

Derek kissed a blazingly hot trail of kisses down Stiles's chest, each one marking the path toward his destination; Derek unzipped Stiles's jeans and cast them down his legs, and his underwear went with, to reveal - "You dyed down here too?" Derek asked, an amused grin on his face.

"The carpet should match the drapes - isn't that what they say?" Stiles said, and Derek let out a low growl of laughter.

"You never fail to surprise me," Derek said, kissing the top of Stiles's cock. Stiles quivered in excitement.

"That's a good thing - right?"

"Yeah." Derek hummed as he grazed his lips over the tip of Stiles's cock and skimmed down it, tasting a fine sheen of sweat and something indescribably Stiles beneath his lips. Stiles spread his legs wider as Derek moved down him. "Yeah, it is," he whispered against his skin.

"You - you still have your pants on," Stiles stammered out, feeling the cool rush of breath against his skin.

"So I do. You know what to do." How did Derek always manage to sound so coolly in control, even when he was mere moments away from fucking Stiles's brains out? It was a real talent, he thought, as he slid the pants down Derek's legs. Derek kicked them off, in two swift movements. "Now, we have no more distractions." And he dove in.

"None at all. Oh my God, what are you doing?" The feeling of Derek's tongue was his only reply. "Oh, oh -"

Derek looked up at him, his eyebrows knitted together, and it was a look akin to pure hunger that looked back at him.

There was no question what he was doing. It was just what was going to be done.

A tantalizing moment or two dangled between them, and then Derek pulled back; Stiles whimpered slightly, and Derek placed one calloused finger over his lips. And then, in one fluid motion, Derek bucked forward and entered Stiles, staring into his eyes the entire time. He gasped. Every time felt like their first time all over again with Derek; the rush of emotions and feelings and, oh God, how painfully hard his cock was -

As if he could read his mind, Derek palmed Stiles's cock in his hand as he thrust in and out, in and out, setting a pace and a rhythm to match the tempo. His hand slid up, he slid out; down and in, repeat. Stiles felt his eyes roll back into his head. If he was going to die, at least he was going to die in the most blissful manner imaginable, at the touch and feel of Derek surrounding every part of him.

They rocked back and forth like this for a while - felt like an eternity, could have been only a few minutes; Stiles knelt his head down to press frantic kisses to Derek's chest, Derek continued to thrust and squeeze and do everything in his power to make Stiles feel weak in the knees. Somehow, he was glad they were on a couch, or else he might just fall to the floor.

Derek gritted his teeth as he felt his own orgasm come, and squeezed and worked to bring Stiles over the edge as well. It was like little sparks of light dancing at the corners of his eyes, leaving him feeling perfectly sated. Derek moved out of him with a lonely little pop and stayed on top of him; Derek's eyes never leaving his. And then he felt Derek's other hand grasp at his hair again.

"You like it," Stiles said, laughter bubbling up inside his throat. "You really like it, oh my God."

"Of course. It's you."

"So it doesn't matter that I'm not Brad Pitt."

"Never did. Only want you. He's not all that hot anyway. Comparatively."

"I can let this grow out and we'll never speak of the misadventures of blond Stiles ever again?"

"On second thought, keep the hair, though," Derek said, laying down on his side next to Stiles and curling up into his side, even if the couch cushion wasn't really big enough for the both of them to lay like that. "It's kind of growing on me."

-_fini_-


End file.
